Chateau d'Or, Norah, and Kitty Craig

It was some time during the latter part of January that the new life came to Chateau d’Or, and Madame Verwest telegraphed to Haverleigh, ‘You have a son.’ It was a big, healthy-looking boy, with great blue eyes, and soft curly hair like Anna’s, but otherwise it was like its father, ‘all Haverleigh,’ Madame Verwest said, as she hugged the little creature to her, and, amid a rain of tears, whispered something over it which Anna could not understand. Was it a blessing, or a prayer that this new-born child might be kept from the path of sin trodden by another child which once had lain on her bosom, as soft and helpless and innocent as this, with the Haverleigh look on its face. Nobody could tell what she thought or felt, but from the moment the first infant wail echoed through the dreary house, Madame Verwest took the little one into her love and heart, and seemed to care for it far more, even, than the mother herself, for at first Anna shrank from the child so like its father, and felt better when it was not in her sight. But with returning health and strength there came a change; the mother love had asserted itself, and Anna was much happier than she had been before the little life came to claim her care. But for her husband there was no tenderness, no love—only a growing disgust and antipathy to him, and an increased dread of his visits, which were more frequent than formerly. He was very proud of his boy—Arthur he called him—though there had been no formal christening, because there was in the neighborhood no Protestant priest. But Haverleigh meant to bring one down with him from Paris and have a grand christening party, and when Eugenie proposed visiting the chateau, he decided to have it while she was there, and to persuade her to stand as god-mother. So a box of elegant dresses, both for Anna and the child, was forwarded to the chateau, with the intelligence that Madame Arschinard would follow in a few days, together with a Protestant clergyman, who was traveling for his health, and whose acquaintance Haverleigh had accidentally made at a hotel. The prospect of seeing Eugenie again, and hearing from her whether she had ever written to America, and with what result, was a delightful one to Anna, who had never been so lovely even in her girlish days as she was that afternoon in early April, when, with her baby in her arms, she stood waiting the arrival of the train which was to bring the expected party from Paris. She had never heard of Fanny Shader, and naturally supposed that Elise would accompany Eugenie, as she did before.

The train was late, half an hour behind time, and when it came, and the carriage returned from the station, to Anna’s inexpressible relief her husband was not in it. A sprained ankle, which was so very painful that he could not put his foot to the floor, would detain him in Paris for a few days, Eugenie explained, as she warmly greeted Madame Haverleigh, and stooped to kiss the baby in her arms. Then, turning to her maid, she said, in English:

‘Here Fannee, take my shawl and hat up to my room. Somebody shall show you the way, while I sit here a little minute in this pretty court.’

It was the first time Anna had noticed the new maid who had stood partly hidden by Eugenie, gazing at her with flushed cheeks and bated breath, and trying so hard to keep from rushing upon her and crying out, ‘Oh, Anna, sister, I am Fred. Don’t you know me?’

“She did not know or dream that the tall, slight girl in the gingham dress, with white apron and straw hat, was other than a waiting-maid, English, probably, as Eugenie addressed her in that language; and she felt glad of the change, for Celine, her own maid, had not agreed very well with Elise on the occasion of her last visit at the chateau. It was Celine who conducted the new girl to Eugenie’s rooms, and tried to be gracious by using the little English she had learned from Anna.

“‘How you call yourself?’ she asked. ‘Fannee, votre nom? c’est bien joli. Are you Anglaise ou Americaine?’

“There was a moment’s hesitancy, and then Fred answered:

“‘Je suis Anglaise.’

“Whereupon Celine, delighted that she could speak a word of French, and taking it for granted she could speak more, rattled on so vehemently that her companion stood aghast, comprehending nothing except that Celine had thought him Americaine, because he was tall and thin, and not—not ‘comment appellez vous cela,’ she said: ‘very much grown, much stomach and chin, comme Anglais.’

“‘Anglais thin quelque fois,’ Fanny said: and then the mischievous Celine commented upon his hands and feet, which her quick eyes had noted as large and unfeminine, albeit the hands were very white and shapely.

“Coloring to the roots of his hair, Fred stood the ordeal as well as he could, feeling almost as if he were in the presence of a detective, and should have his real name, and sex, and business screamed to all the world. But Celine was far from suspecting the truth, and rather liked la femme Anglaise on the whole, and while the ladies talked together in the court below, took her over the house and showed her the view from the windows, and presented her to any of the servants whom they chanced to meet as Fannee, who was Anglaise, and came from Londres.

“Meanwhile Eugenie and Anna sat talking on indifferent subjects, while all the time the latter was longing to ask the all-important question as to whether there was any news from America. At last she could endure the suspense no longer, and grasping Eugenie’s hand, said, in a whisper:

“‘Tell me, have you written? Do they know? I have waited so long for some message.’

“‘Yes, I have wrote; and they do know, and la mère n’est pas morte, as I tell you, but lives in Millfield the same. More I tell you plus tard,’ was Eugenie’s reply.

“And the next moment Anna had fainted.

“The shock was too great for her, and with a little gasping cry, which sounded like ‘mother,’ she fell across Eugenie’s lap, where she lay unconscious, while the excitable Frenchwoman screamed lustily for help. Celine and Fred had just come out upon the open gallery which ran entirely round the court and connected with the sleeping rooms on the third floor.

“Both heard the cry, and both started for the rescue, but la femme Anglaise outstripped Celine, and taking Anna in her arms as if she had been a child, exclaimed:

“‘Where is her room? Let me take her to it.’

“‘Oui, oui, I show you,’ Celine replied, as she led the way to her mistress’s room, ejaculating ‘Mon Dieu! what strength slim people must have to carry madame so.’

“Oh, how tenderly Fred held his unconscious sister, never thinking of her weight, thinking only that he had her in his arms, and could press his boyish lips against hers, and hug her to his bosom. Very gently he laid her upon the bed, and then stood back while restoratives were applied, until she opened her eyes and showed signs of returning consciousness.

“‘She hold l’enfant too long in her weak state, and just fainted sudden,’ Eugenie explained to Madame Verwest, who cared for Anna until she seemed wholly herself and declared that she was as well as ever, but would like to be rather quiet, with no one to sit with her but Madame Arschinard.

“‘She never tires me,’ she said.

“And so the two had tea together in Anna’s room, and were waited upon by Celine, so there was no chance for further conversation until the next morning after the late breakfast, when Eugenie invited Anna to her room, where the soi-disant Fanny was busy arranging her mistress’s wardrobe in the closet and drawers.

“At her Anna did not even glance, but she knew she was in the room, and felt anxious for her to leave, as the presence of a third party would necessarily prevent her from questioning Eugenie with regard to Millfield. But Fanny was apparently in no hurry to leave, and it seemed to Anna that she was purposely dawdling and taking a long time to accomplish a little.

“Anna was occupying the seat which Eugenie offered her, near the window, and directly facing Fanny, whose movements could all be seen if one chose to watch her; and despairing of her quitting the apartment, Anna began at last to watch her as she moved from box to closet or shelf, sometimes with her face turned full toward the window where Anna sat, and sometimes with her back that way. At last, as Anna made no sign of recognition, Eugenie said:

“‘Fanny, have you found that box of bon-bons?’

“‘Yes, madame, I have found it,’ was the reply, spoken in Fred’s own natural voice, which sent a thrill through Anna’s veins, and made her heart beat rapidly as she thought of home and Fred, whose voice Fanny’s was so like; and Fanny was like him, too—the same walk, the same motion of the hands, the same turn of the head. Surely, surely, she had seen it all before, and involuntarily grasping Eugenie’s arm, she whispered in a tone of affright:

“‘Who is she—that girl you call Fanny?’

“‘That girl’ heard the question, and, turning square round toward Anna, tore off the cap from the head, and, running her fingers through her curly hair, gave to it the old, natural look, and then stood confronting the startled woman, whose face was white as marble, and whose lips tried in vain to articulate the one word: ‘Fred.’

“He had her in his arms the next moment, kissing her passionately, and saying to her:

“‘It’s I, Anna; truly Fred, and no ghost. I’ve come to get you away, to take you home to mother, who is not dead. Sweet sister, how much you must have suffered; but it is all over now. Madame and I will save you from that dreadful man.’

“Then Anna’s tears began to flow, and she sobbed passionately, while Fred tried to comfort and reassure her by talking of Millfield and home as of things just within her reach.

“‘Before all the summer flowers are gone we will be there,’ he said; ‘but you must be very discreet, and no no-one here must ever know that I am not Fanny Shader. Don’t I make a nice maid? Only Celine thinks my feet and hands too big,’ he said, as he adjusted his jaunty cap again, and walked across the floor with a swinging motion to his skirts which set Anna to laughing hysterically, and so saved her from another fainting fit.

“Eugenie put away her own dresses and finery after that, and left the brother and sister free to talk together of all which had transpired since the day Anna left home with the man who seemed to her more and more a demon, as she learned all he had written of her to her friends.

“‘He must be mad himself,’ she said, ‘as I can see no motive for his pursuing his petty revenge so long and to such extremes.’

“And then together they talked of her escape, which Fred had come to accomplish, or rather to assist in, for Eugenie was the one who was to plan and devise, and both agreed to trust her implicitly

“After a long consultation it was decided that Madame Verwest should be taken into confidence and be told at once who Fanny Shader was, and after that matters were to rest for awhile and Eugenie to remain at the Chateau d’Or until the last of May or the first of June, during which time Fred was to devote himself to the baby and become so necessary to its well-being that to leave him at the chateau as nurse would be comparatively easy of accomplishment, after which the denouement was to follow naturally.

“Mr. Haverleigh’s sprain proved more serious than he had at first anticipated, and it was nearly two weeks before he was able to come down to the chateau. Then he arrived unannounced one afternoon, and was accompanied by a young English clergyman, a rollicking, easy-going man, who was out on what he called a lark, and who enjoyed nothing better than the trip to Chateau d’Or with Haverleigh, for whom he had conceived a great liking. The christening was uppermost in Haverleigh’s mind. His boy, his son and heir, must have a name, and the second evening after his arrival the ceremony took place, and the baby was baptized Arthur Strong, Eugenie standing as god-mother, and Fanny Shader holding the child. Fanny had proved invaluable, and entirely superseded the fine lady from Avignon, who had come to the chateau when the child was born, and when Haverleigh arrived there was a plan on foot for keeping the girl entirely as baby’s nurse. This plan was made to appear wholly Eugenie’s, who felt it a duty to part with her treasure for the good of her little god-child. In this matter Haverleigh was not particular, and greatly to the satisfaction of all parties Fanny became little Arthur’s nurse, and was thus almost constantly in Anna’s society. Once or twice Haverleigh had looked curiously and closely at the new girl as if there was something familiar in the features, but Fred always seemed to know when he was an object of inspection, and managed adroitly to get out of sight without appearing to do so. He never spoke to his master except to answer a question, and then his manner was exceedingly deferential and quite gratifying to the man, who liked nothing better than a cringing manner in a servant, as if he were lord and master of all.

“Those spring days at Chateau d’Or were very pleasant ones, for Anna was buoyed up with the hope of escape from the man who grew each day more and more detestable and terrible to her. His evident admiration for Eugenie, which he did not try to conceal, would alone have made her hate him had there been no other cause. But Eugenie’s infatuation for him was ended, and though she had no fear or dread of him in her heart, like Anna, she had no liking for him, and only feigned to tolerate him until she had achieved her revenge, for with her it was nothing more than that. She was not a woman of good or firm principles of any kind, and with the right or wrong she did not trouble herself, but she had loved her young sister with an all-absorbing love, and if she could do aught to harm the man who had wrought her sister’s ruin she was resolved to do it; so she lingered at the chateau and professed herself so much in love with Anna and the child that she could not endure the thought of a separation from them, and only decided at the last to return to Paris on condition that Anna should be allowed to visit her sometime in June or July. And to this Haverleigh consented, and said he would himself come down from Paris for her when she was ready for the journey. But this was no part of Eugenie’s plan. When Anna left Chateau d’Or she must leave it without other escort than her brother, and of her ability to manage this she constantly reassured Anna, who grew so excited and anxious that she sank into a kind of nervous fever, which confined her to her room when Eugenie at last said good-by, and started for Paris with Haverleigh.